


Flame of Devotion

by 27dragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, BDSM, M/M, Sensation Play, Unnegotiated Kink, Wax Play, due to the whole bucky-is-an-actual-god situation, god!Bucky Barnes, sacrifice!Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: It is almost time for the White Wolf to fade into myth -- but before that happens, his few remaining worshippers are asking for a miracle, and they’ve offered up the most delectable sacrifice.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 40
Kudos: 494
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, StarkBucksBingo2020





	Flame of Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This fills squares for me in three bingos!
> 
> StarkBucks Bingo: I2 - AU: Gods/Goddesses  
> Bucky Barnes Bingo: B3 - IMAGE: Bucky and something burning  
> MCU Kink Bingo: B3 - Pervertable: Candles

There weren’t many worshippers left. One village, deep in the mountains, where his hold had always been strongest. Two elderly priests with no acolytes training to follow them. The loyal attended the rituals, lit their candles and spoke the words, but the strength of their faith was waning. Soon the White Wolf would fade from the pantheon altogether and become a myth.

That was all right. He’d never been one of the primary gods, never known the heady rush of power that came from having thousands -- hundreds of thousands! -- chanting his liturgies.

He’d been a smaller god, barely more than a minor deity, a protector of the weak and brave.

He didn’t mind, too much, that he was falling out of memory. When his last priest died, he would assume a mortal form and wander the earth until his death, never to return to the Halls of Gold.

But for now, he was still a god, and for now, there was enough faith to keep him strong, and enough power in the rituals to bring his worshippers’ words to his ears.

They were offering a sacrifice.

That was... Not new, not at all, but it had been a century since the last.

Curious, the White Wolf climbed down from the Halls of Gold, and then worked his way down the mountain to the village nestled in its narrow valley.

It was night as he approached. The village was dark, except the temple, which showed windows blazing with light, wide open despite the winter air. It was quiet, all the villagers asleep -- all save the sacrifice, who waited for him in the temple.

The White Wolf tasted the air as he drew near on soundless paws. He smelled incense and candle smoke, honeyed wine and fat-rich meat, sweet herbs and oils.

The door blew open as he approached the temple; it was only fit that his house should welcome him within.

It was a simple building, a single room built of stone and strong timber. At the far end of the room was an altar, a beautifully-carved slab of stone that would take ten or more strong men to move. On the altar was a young man, surrounded by dozens of candles, staring at him, his devotion an inner flame that flared brighter than any candle, warming and nourishing.

He was naked and tied down, arms and legs splayed wide, but he showed not the slightest trace of fear. He was beautiful, with dark, tousled hair that shone in the candlelight. His eyes were a lovely, rare bronze. His olive-tinged skin showed a few scars and calluses, but no recent injuries.

The White Wolf padded across the room. On the floor in front of the altar was the meat and wine and jars of fresh-pressed oil that he’d smelled. He ignored it, concentrating on the sacrifice. He paced a slow circle around the altar, examining the young man from every angle. He looked _perfect_.

Wolf jaws and tongues were not designed for speech. The White Wolf flowed into his human shape between one step and the next. The man’s eyes grew impossibly wider, and the cock that had been laying limply against his thigh pulsed and began to swell.

Interesting.

“Do you come to me of your own free will?” the White Wolf demanded. Each god had its own requirements for their sacrifices: virgins, twins, redheads, elders. The list was as varied as the gods themselves. The White Wolf only accepted willing sacrifices with no injuries or wounds.

“I do, my lord.” His voice was sweet, too, perfectly matched to the rest of him.

He picked up one hand to examine the rope tying the man’s wrist. There were strips of rabbit fur there, turned inward, to protect the skin from chafing. The binding was snug but not tight enough to cause harm. Good. “Have you had anything to eat or drink this day?”

“Only water, my lord.” The man sounded somewhat breathless.

The White Wolf hummed and leaned closer, sniffing delicately at the man’s throat. There was no tang of drugs in his sweat, no sour scent of alcohol. A heady bloom of arousal, and still no hint of fear.

“What’s your name?”

“Anthony Stark, my lord. Everyone calls me Tony.”

“Tony,” the White Wolf repeated. He straightened and looked Tony over again.

Tony’s limbs were quivering faintly with anticipation, but he wasn’t struggling against the bindings. His cock was fully hard now, red and straining for relief. His breath was shallow and fast, his eyes wide with wonder and awe.

“You’re not afraid of me?” the White Wolf wondered. “Of what I might do to you?”

“No, my lord. I... I’ve known this would be my fate for some years now.”

The White Wolf glanced at him sharply. “Did they raise you to this end?”

“No, my lord. I dreamed it, when I began to get my man’s growth. My friends and my age-mates, they dreamed of beautiful women or handsome men, of giving themselves to lovers. I have only ever dreamed of you. Of being yours.”

“You might have apprenticed to the priests,” the White Wolf pointed out.

Tony shook his head. “No. The priests serve you, but they don’t belong to you. I would be yours utterly, my lord. If you will have me.”

How could he not want this beautiful creature? The White Wolf touched Tony, running a fingertip from Tony’s collarbone all the way down to the top of his toes. Tony shivered at the touch, his eyes closing in what looked like bliss. “I will give you my offer, Tony Stark. Will you hear it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You will tell me what my people ask of me, what it is that they need desperately enough to sacrifice one of their own to gain my favor. And if I--”

_\--am able_ , his thoughts continued, but that was a dangerous line for a god to tread.

“If I choose to grant their request, then you will be mine. I will take you from this place, and none who dwell here will ever see you again. If not, then I will leave you here, untouched. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord.” The first hint of worry creased Tony’s brow, as if it had not occurred to him that the White Wolf might decline the sacrifice.

“Then tell me what they want.”

“Protection, my lord. The armies of the Hydra are making their way through the mountains. It is slow going for them, the terrain unfamiliar and inhospitable -- but they do not retreat. If it takes them days to advance a single mile, then they press onward, as slowly and steadily as they must. If an avalanche destroys half their forces, they bring more soldiers to clear the rocks, and they press onward. Every village they take, they slaughter half and sell the rest into slavery. We cannot stand against such relentlessness, even if we could match their numbers. My lord... if you do not take me, then within the year, none who dwell here will remain.”

The White Wolf cast out his vision, seeking out the truth of Tony’s words. There were other villages in these mountains, villages where he was no longer worshipped, but which clung to him as a myth, a superstition, his symbol painted on the houses, carved alabaster wolves decorating the mantles. Places where he could open his eyes, if he pushed against the barriers.

What he found was... devastation. Houses that had been burned down with the families still in them. Bodies left to rot on the bloodsoaked ground. The few villages that hadn’t been attacked yet were trembling in fear, doing what they could to rig booby traps and blockades that would slow the Hydra army’s advance but could not stop them.

Those villages were not his people, not any longer, but the White Wolf could not turn away from this horror. He summoned a storm and shaped it, ringing the mountains with a blizzard that would freeze the Hydra army in their tents and close every possible pass and path with solid ice before fresh, better-protected soldiers could be sent out.

That would hold the villages for a time. Long enough for the White Wolf to make his way to the center of the Hydra infestation and cut off its head.

Taking the sacrifice would make him more powerful than he’d been in decades, and the Hydra wasn’t a god, despite the army’s fervent worship. Hydra was only a monster, feeding on the hatred and suffering it could sow.

The White Wolf looked back at Tony. “I accept.”

Tony’s smile was every bit as beautiful as the rest of him. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” the White Wolf warned. “My attentions are not easily borne.”

“I am yours, my lord,” Tony said earnestly. “Do with me as you will.”

“Anything?” The White Wolf leaned close. “I could tear out your throat. Or carve strips from your flesh. Or turn you into a rabbit and hunt you down.”

Tony looked up at him, trusting and unafraid. “I am yours. I have always been meant for this.”

The White Wolf had been a god for over a thousand years, had witnessed many hundreds of acts of devotion. But none as perfect and simple as this. None that took his breath away like this.

He picked up one of the candles, a thick pillar. Its wick had grown long while Tony waited for him to arrive, its flame guttering and smoking in its pool of wax. He considered Tony for a long moment, then poured a slow dribble of the wax out over Tony’s unprotected belly. 

Tony gasped and hissed and flinched away from the heat, an involuntary motion. He pulled against the ropes for a few heartbeats, then relaxed again as the wax cooled and hardened on his skin. He looked at the White Wolf steadily. “Anything,” he promised.

“Yes,” the White Wolf agreed. “You are mine, and I shall take my pleasure of you. Whatever form that pleasure may take.”

“Yes, my lord. Please.” Tony’s cock hadn’t flagged at all, despite the pain.

The White Wolf chose another candle, this one a slim taper, and held it over Tony’s body, letting the melted wax fall in drips, spattering Tony’s throat and chest, his small, brown nipples, pebbled as they were from the cool air or from arousal.

A soft whine slid from Tony’s throat, but he didn’t ask for a reprieve, didn’t beg for mercy. His eyelids fluttered shut and then snapped open again, his gaze locked on the White Wolf.

The White Wolf trailed his fingers up Tony’s cock, and Tony groaned, shuddering in pleasure. Even before those shivers subsided, the White Wolf poured another stream of wax over Tony’s skin. It made Tony yelp and twitch, and the White Wolf smiled.

“Does this... does this please you, my lord?” Tony asked, and then hissed at the trail of wax sliding down his ribs.

“It does, very much.” The White Wolf leaned over again to press a kiss to Tony’s pliant lips, parting them with his tongue to taste Tony’s mouth, to breathe in the very air from Tony’s lungs.

Tony relaxed into it, letting his limbs go limp and pliant as he gave himself up, utterly.

After that, the time passed in a haze of growing desire. A dribble of wax to make Tony hiss or whine, a stroke or three of his cock to make him moan, a slow, breath-stealing kiss to calm him when he was on edge. It seemed to take no time at all before Tony was utterly lost to the sensations, his eyes glassy and his movements slow.

“Tony,” the White Wolf breathed, “you’re so beautiful, do you know how beautiful you are?” Tony was completely covered with wax from his neck to his toes, down both arms, leaving out only his cock, so that the White Wolf could tease and torment it. His breath came in soft, shuddering gasps. “So beautiful, so perfect for me.”

He dipped his fingers in the herb-scented oil and worked them, one at a time, into Tony’s entrance. Later, after he’d taken Tony from this place, he would make full use of that tight hole, would sink himself in it and sate himself on the sweet clench of Tony’s body. For now, though, he worked two fingers into Tony’s body, slick and hot, and curled the other hand around Tony’s desperately straining cock. “Let it go, Tony,” he whispered. “Come for me, let me see you in your pleasure. Give it to me, my love.”

Another stroke and Tony screamed as his climax overtook him, thick ropes of come pulsing out of him in wave after wave. The White Wolf worked him until every last drop was extracted and Tony was sobbing helplessly, overstimulated and utterly drained.

“So good, so perfect,” the White Wolf crooned. He peeled the wax away, each bit that fell away making Tony shiver in the sudden rush of cold air against oversensitive skin. Tony never protested, though, offering up every hint of pain and discomfort to him. Accepting it all, for him. It gave him a rush of strength and power and pride, wrapped around a core of protective tenderness. The White Wolf kissed Tony’s tears away, murmuring praise and adoration as he worked.

He unfastened Tony's bindings while Tony watched, neither protesting nor helping. Then he fed Tony from the platter of meat, small pieces rich with fat, and then poured a cup of the honeyed wine and made Tony drink it. “That was left for you,” Tony protested weakly. 

“To do with as I wished,” the White Wolf reminded him gently, “and I wish for you to share it. You are mine, are you not?”

“Always,” Tony promised, and opened his mouth to let the White Wolf tip another sip into it. The White Wolf alternated bites of meat with sips of wine, all the while touching Tony, stroking that beautiful skin, those soft curls, those full lips.

When the cup was empty, he lifted Tony into his arms, leaving an outline on the altar in the shape of Tony's body, a negative space where no wax had dripped. “Are you ready to go?” 

“As long as I’m with you, my lord,” Tony agreed, snuggling closer.

“You’re mine,” the White Wolf agreed. He set Tony carefully on the floor and picked up a scrap of rabbit fur, shaking it out into a long cloak. “Put this on. It will be cold.”

He fastened the cloak around Tony’s shoulders with a silver pin decorated with a wolf’s head. “Climb on and hold tight,” he told Tony. “Can you do that?”

Tony considered it, his hands opening and closing a few times as if testing his strength. “For a while,” he judged. “I’ll need to rest soon, my lord.”

“It's not a long journey,” the White Wolf promised. He tipped Tony’s face up for another kiss, gentle and reassuring and yet still hungry. He made himself pull away and shake back into his wolf shape.

Tony climbed onto his back -- not without some difficulty; the White Wolf was nearly as tall as a horse at the shoulder, and Tony was barefoot -- and clung tightly to the White Wolf’s thick fur.

_Soon_ , he promised himself. Soon, he would lay Tony down on a soft bed and claim his sacrifice, sealing Tony to him utterly. And then he would fulfill his part of the bargain and hunt down the Hydra.

The White Wolf's time was drawing to a close. But he would perform this last service for his people, make sure they were safe. And when it was time to set aside the god's mantle, his sacrifice, his _Tony_ would be his, still.


End file.
